Chapter V: In the Davis Straits

The Government bounty to encourage British whaling ceased in 1824; the wealth which was coming in exceeded that of the Dutch even in the latter’s most prosperous year, and there seemed every likelihood of the pursuit becoming most satisfactory. The produce in 1814 obtained from Greenland and Davis Straits had amounted to over £700,000, but this was an exceptionally good year. In 1829 the figure had dropped to about half that, but the price of oil had also fallen. In addition, about £50,000 must be added for the revenue from that newer South Seas fishing.

It was in that year there occurred an incident in the Davis Straits which well illustrates the keenness and even the jealousies among the whalemen. The date was August 23, 1829, and five or six boats of the Peterhead whaling ship _Traveller_ were at work in the straits when one of the boats harpooned a whale. Away darted the monster, so that the _Traveller’s_ boat was quickly coming to the end of her line. The “foregoer” or “foreganger” had been hove over by the harpooner, a turn had been taken round the “billet head” or bollard, and the usual signal indicating to the rest of the fleet that a whale had been struck was made, and the jack hoisted. That line was revolving round the bollard at such a rate that smoke was issuing with the friction.

Of the boats in the vicinity, that of the whaler _Princess of Wales_ from Aberdeen came alongside the _Traveller’s_ boat in friendly fashion, as was the custom among whalers, and bent her line to the line of the _Traveller’s_ boat. Eventually the whale diminished his fury and was approached, but now a boat from the barque _Thomas_, owned by the Dundee Union Whale Fishing Company, came up and also harpooned the animal, which at once made off with such rapidity that one of the men in the _Traveller’s_ boat was thrown under the thwart. The going was terrific, for this boat encountered in its course an ice floe and several of the men had to leap out and guide the craft past lest it should be smashed to pieces: in fact, the pace was so fast that some of the hands were left behind on the ice. A third turn had to be taken round the bollard, but still the whale rushed on.

It was about this time that a second harpoon from the _Traveller’s_ boat got home, making three in all, and finally the whale was killed. But then came a squabble, for the men in the _Traveller’s_ boat naturally claimed the catch as theirs, but the _Thomas’s_ boat violently opposed this and demanded the prize for themselves. In fact they were so determined and threatening that the _Traveller’s_ men had to withdraw and watch the other people tow it away. But the matter did not end there, and the case came on for trial in Edinburgh during the following March, when Joseph Hutchinson and other Peterhead merchants, owners of the _Traveller_, brought an action against the Dundee Union Whale Fishing Company. There was never much doubt as to the result, and the _Traveller’s_ owners were awarded the sum of £600, which was the agreed value of the whale.

The year 1830 stands out as one of the most disastrous years which ever happened to British whaling. After the Greenland Sea had been mostly fished clean, the grounds used by the whalers had been shifted chiefly to the entrance of Davis Straits. This was known as the South-West fishery. But in course of time this, too, had become fished out and the whales had departed for more distant corners of the Arctic. The information brought home by Ross and Parry that whales had been seen in large numbers further up Baffin’s Bay, and on the north-west side, naturally soon attracted the ships to those remote latitudes. At the same time a much greater degree of risk was undertaken by reason of the ice, for at the beginning of the season the ice comes floating down from the north.

The whalemen’s custom was to take their ships up the eastern side of Baffin’s Bay past the rocky promontory marked as the Devil’s Thumb, and across that mighty Melville Bay where the snow and ice perpetually cover the lofty shore. It was into this bay that the south-west wind blew the loosened fragments of the barrier ice, which, unable to find an outlet from this lee shore, created a tremendous danger to shipping. In this year 1830, then, the whalers had left their British ports by the end of March, but owing to head winds did not reach the entrance to Davis Straits till the end of April. The sea this year was beautifully open as they made their way up the eastern side of Baffin’s Bay, sighting very few whales.

Above Disko Island the ice delayed them a week, but at last the fleet of fifty sail reached the opening of Melville Bay on June 10th, about a month earlier than usual. From now on there follows a series of incidents so thrilling and amazing that imagination could hardly invent happenings more astounding: the record is more like a chapter out of a boy’s adventure story. For the south-west wind had crowded Melville Bay with ice floes so that whichever way those whalers looked it was an alarming sight. What was to be done? The hope was to find an opening to the westward and thus gain the intended fishing ground; and, as a fact, an opening was discovered. Whaler captains, like all fishermen, were in keen competition the one against the other, and every ship knew that the first to get through this ice to the open water stood the best chance of reaching the whales first. Thus it was that the _St. Andrew_ of Aberdeen wriggled her way through, and she was followed by twenty-two more. The rest of the fleet were coming along, too, but now the ice closed and made an impenetrable bulkhead between the first twenty-three and the rear, which tried independently but ineffectually to get through.

With the _St. Andrew_ were the _Baffin_ and _Rattler_ of Leith, the _Eliza Swan_ of Montrose, the _Achilles_ of Dundee, and the French whaler _Ville de Dieppe_. On June 19th there sprang up a fresh S.S.W. gale which piled the masses of ice against them. The sight of these six vessels with their heavy-built hulls and great yards against the white ice hemming them in, unable to proceed further, was impressive as a picture but indicative of future destruction. However, the little squadron had taken what shelter they could under the lee of a large floe and in water that barely floated them. They had also hauled themselves so close in single line ahead, bow to stern, that it was possible to walk along the six decks continuously.

And then on the night of June 24th the sky became black, the gale worked up to its full anger, and the ice began pressing against the ships terribly. In order to relieve this pressure, hands were set sawing the ice so as to form a wet dock, but soon came a great floe which nothing could withstand. Lifting up the _Eliza Swan_, the floe hurled her against the _St. Andrew’s_ bow with such force as almost to wrench the former’s mizzen mast out in the ship: and then the floe passed from under, damaging both stem and keel. It next struck the _St. Andrew_ amidships, snapping about twenty of her timbers, and then passing along the line dashed against the _Baffin_, _Achilles_, _Ville de Dieppe_ and _Rattler_ with such energy that within fifteen minutes these four strongly built, specially fortified whalers designed for Arctic work were for the most part converted into mere fragments of wood.

With the grinding of the merciless ice and the crunching of stout timbers; the shouts of the deep-throated men; the snapping of thick masts; the crashing of yards; the howling of that bitter gale over the icy white expanse, there was enough going on to unnerve most people. Suddenly made homeless, many of these seafarers were but lightly clad and just able to leap on to the frozen surface. The _Ville de Dieppe_, partly filled with water, was the least unfortunate, for she touched bottom, remained upright during the next fortnight, and from her were salved stores and provisions. Some were also taken from the _Baffin_, and boats were hauled on the ice to form some sort of shelter.

We mentioned just now the _Princess of Wales_, belonging to Aberdeen. This whaler, together with the _Resolution_ of Peterhead, the _Laurel_ of Hull, and the _Letitia_, also of Aberdeen, had been able to get further to the north-west, and cut out for themselves a wet dock in the ice. They were lying side by side and imagined themselves quite safe, but this gale drove the floes against them, piercing the hulls of _Resolution_ and _Letitia_, filling them with the sea. The _Laurel_ was lying between them and was so compressed as almost to be raised out of the water: but for a while she remained, and quickly provisions and stores were placed aboard her from the two wrecked whalers. On the 2nd of July, however, the gale seemed to be worse than ever, and within ten minutes the _Laurel_ and also the _Hope_ of Peterhead were destroyed. But we have not yet completed the list.

Other whalers of the twenty-three had penetrated in their eagerness further north, even as far as lat. 76°. Among these were two ships, the _Spencer_ and _Lee_, of which the latter escaped with only shattered timbers, whilst the former had filled and become a complete wreck. The Whitby _William and Ann_ was crushed to pieces quickly, the _Dordon_ of Hull was raised up by the ice into safety, and the _Old Middleton_ of Aberdeen was wrecked. So also of those which had remained south of the ice barrier, many encountered disaster, but thus far not one officer or man out of the whole fleet had been lost. Some had narrow escapes in reaching the ice, some even found themselves in the water before they could get time to snatch a few clothes. And then on that glacial surface a thousand seafarers set to work making themselves as comfortable as they could with bits of sail as tents. Anyone who has ever been associated with shipwrecked sailors knows how adaptable they are to sudden changes of circumstances: how they will even joke and magnify any element of happiness that remains. Nor were these whaler-men any different. They had been accustomed to cold and the rigours of northern fishing, some of them for twenty or thirty years. Tough, hard-case, plucky, ignorant of most things except their seamanship and their whaling; rough, chafing against discipline, easily tempted by a drop of alcohol, they were a strange crowd to be responsible for, on that ice, beyond the immediate control of their officers.

Some of these sailors rejoiced that for once they were independent beings, free from having to obey. Others treated the affair as a holiday: but certain of them got hold of the salved wine and spirits and became drunk. What with this newly sprung canvas village, the roisterous alcoholic shouts of the British, the singing and dancing of the French, no wonder that the wags named it Baffin’s Fair. There were really two villages, in fact, that of the wrecked ships which had got north of the barrier, and that of the vessels which had foundered to the south. Between the two there was such regularity in communication that the southerners used to call it the “north mail.” Possibly there was more to drink in that southern section.

But presently the deaths began to happen: some through exposure and cold and fatigue, but some through too much alcohol, tumbling into the holes of the ice intoxicated. On the whole, however, the discipline was not bad. The third week of July passed, the _St. Andrew_ with the _Eliza Swan_ and other ships at the northern end tried to get away to the westward, and their crews towed the ships through gaps. But some of these vessels were so unlucky as to be driven still further north even above lat. 76° 2′ and the men employed their time catching a few whales and dragging them through the holes. It was not till September 10th that they succeeded in making open water: though others had got clear a week or two sooner. The most depressing sight was when a certain Greenock ship was thoroughly ice-surrounded and she watched other vessels one by one move away out of their icy fastness. The captain died and the mate began to despair of ever getting the ship clear till the following year. The latter thereupon took one of the boats with a dozen men and left the ship to look for some of the Danish settlements.

But, after the mate had gone, the ice began to move, and after a few hours’ sawing, the ship found herself in fairly clear water. The position now was this. There were on board not merely the ship’s own crew, but those of the wrecked _Princess of Wales_ and of the _Letitia_. But the last of the officers had gone away in the boat, taking with him the charts and log-glasses; yet still the crew decided to carry on. For about a week this vessel, whose name was _John_, was navigated cautiously, anchoring every night. But then the crew became emboldened, and one night the watch on deck sighted a line of breakers, but he came to the conclusion that it had been caused only by a stream of ice: so no alteration in course was made. The next thing was that the _John_ was ashore, and although built of teak she was a total wreck by the morning. Fortunately there were sighted the _Eliza Swan_ and the _Duncombe_ of Hull, who picked up the crew and brought them safely home.

The net result of this season’s disaster to the whaling fleet in the Davis Straits was the loss of twenty fine ships belonging to Hull, Aberdeen, Leith, Dundee, Peterhead, Whitby, Montrose, Greenock and Dieppe. The news reached Peterhead and Hull in October by returning ships lucky enough to have survived. Throughout these fishing towns the effect was pathetic. Financially the loss of these nineteen British whalers, and the cost of repairing twelve which were damaged, the details as to wages, stores and so on, amounted to over £142,600, quite apart from the failure to bring home that produce which they were sent to fetch. Thus the total loss this season was close on £300,000. And having regard to the value of money a hundred years ago, these figures are extremely significant. Whaling had begun to be a prosperous concern, the bounties had been discontinued, the Baffin’s Bay area had seemed to hold out excellent prospects. But such a universal disaster as this to nine of the principal ports was such that many were disinclined to risk their savings in such ventures again. The industry fell on bad times, the shock had been too heavy, and by the year 1849 there were only fourteen British whalers at work. But it was the United States of America which especially kept the occupation going, for in this last-mentioned year that country possessed 596 whaling ships of 190,000 tons manned by 18,000 sailors. Having regard to the English pioneer work in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the vast sums of money which had been expended, the enormous bounties, and the years of persistent effort, the condition to which British whaling had descended was thoroughly disheartening. Gradually the northern grounds became deserted, and attention was turned more and more to those southern seas about which Burke in the previous century had spoken with such eloquence. The last voyage to Arctic seas had by no means been made, but various efforts were taken to find the whale in areas of the world less forbidding than those which had brought such disaster and financial loss.

But even outside the Arctic regions British whaling was to be spasmodic rather than regular both as to area and continuity. It was Captain Cook who in 1775 first reported whales in the southern seas, and then the American and British whalers began their profitable voyages thither. But in the year 1833 there sailed from London the 300-ton whaler _Tuscan_ for a three-year whaling voyage round the world, and in her was allowed to travel as passenger a surgeon named F. D. Bennett, who was a Fellow both of the Royal College of Surgeons and of the Royal Geographical Society. This scientist went in order to study the anatomy and habits of the southern whales and the mode of conducting the sperm-whale fishery--a subject which up till then had not been touched in our literature. He has described the South Sea whaling ship and the life on board so well that we may first look at the vessel through his eyes.